Two days later Hansel Dana had officially become a student at Beechcroft Academy, one of a colony of some one hundred and forty-odd youths of from twelve to twenty years of age, about half of whom lived in the two school dormitories and half in the village or in the occasional white-painted and green-shuttered residences along the way to it. (In Beechcroft parlance the former were called “Schoolers” and the latter “Towners,” and there was always more or less rivalry between them.) Hansel had passed his entrance examinations with a condition in Latin which he must work off during the fall term, and he was very well satisfied. Harry told him, in the words of Grover Cleveland, that “it was a condition and not a theory which confronted him,” but Hansel didn’t have any doubt as to his ability to work it off before the Christmas recess.

[21]

He had also meanwhile passed another examination, and that without conditions. The candidates for the school eleven, by which term the first team was known, had assembled on the afternoon of the first day of school, and never before, according to Mr. Ames, had there been so many of them; and never, he had also added to himself, had they been nearly so unpromising. Out of a possible one hundred and forty-odd students, seventy-one, or practically one-half, had reported for practice on the green. Of the number five had played on the last year’s team, while many others had been on either the scrub or the class elevens. Hansel, because of an examination in mathematics, had not been able to reach the green until the first practice was almost half over. He had reported to Bert Middleton, and had been ungraciously sent to one of the awkward squads composed of the candidates from the entering class. But he hadn’t stayed there very long. Mr. Ames, making the round of the squads, had watched him for a moment and had thereupon sent him into the second group, which was under the instruction of a big, good-natured boy whom Hansel recognized as[22] the Laurence Royle of whom Harry Folsom had spoken. The first day’s practice consisted principally of exercises designed to limber up stiff muscles, and proved most uninteresting and disappointing to many of the new candidates. After doing a quarter of a mile jog around the cinder track, the fellows were sent up to the gymnasium, where their names and weights were taken down by the manager. On the second afternoon the unpromising candidates were weeded out, and definite teams—first, second, third, and fourth—were formed; and Hansel found himself one of sixteen lucky fellows constituting the first.

The coach was Mr. Ames, instructor in French and German. He had played football and baseball during his college days at Harvard, and had, in fact, been an all-round athlete. He was a young man, very popular with the students and very successful in handling them, either on the gridiron or in the classroom. During his five years as coach Beechcroft had won three football games from Fairview School, her dearest enemy, and had lost two; had been defeated three times in baseball, had tied one game[23] and won one; had been generally successful on the track, and in the two years that hockey had been played had been twice defeated. The physical training was looked after by Mr. Foote, the director of the gymnasium. Undoubtedly Beechcroft could have done better in athletics had she had a professional trainer and additional coaches, but there was little revenue from athletics and almost no support from graduates, and as a consequence what money was obtained for athletic expenditure came from the students themselves and was insufficient for anything more than the items of equipment, field maintenance, and traveling expenses. Under the circumstances, it was felt that Beechcroft did very well.

Mr. Ames believed that in Hansel the football team had a find of no small importance. The boy evidently knew football from the ground up, had weight, speed, and brains, and promised to develop into one of the best men on the team. He confided his belief to Bert and Harry one afternoon after practice was over, and even Bert was forced, seemingly against his will, to agree with him. Harry was enthusiastic,[24] possibly because he had discerned Hansel’s abilities at their first meeting, and so felt a sort of proprietary interest in him.

“He’s got end cinched,” declared the manager. “Cutter and Grant will have to toss up to see which one of them goes to the scrub. I knew the first moment I set eyes on the fellow that he could play the game.”

“Well, if he’s a find he’s the only one that I know about,” said Bert. “There isn’t anyone else in sight who threatens to become famous.”

“That’s so,” agreed Mr. Ames. “The new men are a poor lot from the football standpoint. But there’s some good track material in sight.”

“Hang your old track material,” laughed Bert. “What I’m looking for is a few good heavy linemen.”

After the coach had taken himself off, Bert and Harry went up to the latter’s room in Weeks.

“How are you and Achates getting on together?” asked Harry when he had pushed Bert into an easy chair and thrown himself among the window cushions.

“Oh, all right, I guess. I told you he had a[25] grudge against me, didn’t I, because he says I used to haze him when he was a youngster?”

“Yes, but of course you didn’t really do such a thing,” laughed Harry.

“You dry up! I dare say I did tease him a bit; he was such a milksop, you see. But I think it’s mighty small of him to remember it all this time!”

“Yes, I suppose so, but—oh, I don’t know; he seems sort of funny in some ways, don’t you think?”

“Yes, he’s woozy, the silly dub! And I know all the time that he’s sort of laughing at me up his sleeve because I told him not to be disappointed if he didn’t make the team.”

“Did you tell him that?” laughed Harry.

“Yes; I didn’t want him to think he could get on just because he roomed with the captain; you know lots of fellows would have thought that.”

“Ye-es, but I don’t think Dana’s that kind.”

“Maybe not; I know he isn’t, in fact. But I didn’t then. Gee but he can play!”

“You’d better believe it, Bert! I’ll bet he’ll turn out the best end in years. Why, the chap[26] can run like a gale of wind, and as for putting his man out—” Words failed him. “Well, I’m glad you two are chummy; it makes it better, eh?”

“We’re not exactly chummy,” answered Bert with a frown, “but we get on all right. He attends to his affairs and I attend to mine; we don’t have much to say to each other—yet.”

“Pshaw, don’t be nasty, Bert. He’ll be decent if you will, I bet. You know you have a temper sometimes, and——”

“I don’t remember things a thousand years, do I?” asked the other angrily. “Temper! Who wouldn’t have a temper when——”

“There, there, old chap! Don’t get waxy with me. If you do I’ll throw you out of the window!”

Whereupon a scuffle ensued, and Bert’s ill temper passed.

Bert’s description of the existing relations between the occupants of 22 Prince was a true one. He and Hansel “got on all right,” but there wasn’t much chumming. Football seemed to be the only topic which could induce conversation. Sometimes an hour passed in the evening[27] during which not a word was exchanged across the study table. Bert would have been glad to let bygones be bygones, for he liked Hansel, if only because of the latter’s ability to play football; Bert would have found a warm corner in his heart for the sorriest specimen of humanity imaginable had the latter been able to play the game well. But he wasn’t one to make advances even had there been encouragement, which there wasn’t. Hansel was always polite, always amiable, but, so far as Bert could see, didn’t care a row of pins whether his roommate came or went. Life at home wasn’t enlivening to Bert in those days, for he was very dependent upon the society of others for happiness; solitude had small attraction for him and silence still less. As a result he spent most of his time, when study was not absolutely necessary, away from his room.

On the second evening following the conversation recorded with Harry, however, he was at home; study to-night was incumbent. He sat at one side of the table and Hansel at the other. For the better part of an hour each had been immersed in his books and not a word had been said. Finally, Bert pushed his work away,[28] stretched, yawned, and looked at the little clock on the mantel. As the clock was never known to be right, the resulting increase in knowledge wasn’t valuable. He knew plaguy well it wasn’t twenty-six minutes to seven! Hansel raised his head and glanced across at him.

“Going to knock off?” he asked politely.

“Yes, I guess so.” He pined for conversation and wished heartily that the other would stop studying and talk. “What you worrying over?”

“Latin,” was the laconic reply, as Hansel’s head bent over the book again.

“Find it hard?”

“Yes, I hate the foolish stuff.”

“Well, I never found it hard; but math has me floored.”

“That so?”

“Yes.”

Silence, during which the untruthful clock ticked loudly.

“How are you with math?”

“Fair, I guess; mathematics don’t bother me much.”

[29]

“Wish I could say that. Did you ever hear the yarn they tell on Billy Cameron?”

“No, I don’t think so,” was the polite and uninterested response. But Bert wasn’t to be silenced.

“Well, you know Billy’s about twenty or twenty-one. He went to Bursley for about a hundred years before he came here. They got tired of trying to teach him anything and so he left there and showed up here. At least—well, that’s one reason. The other reason is that we needed a good half back, and Billy was open to inducements.”

Hansel’s eyes came away from his book and he began to show signs of interest.

“What sort of inducements?” he asked.

“Oh, the usual, you know; tuition paid by popular subscription and a nice comfortable place as waiter in dining hall, where he doesn’t have to do much and gets his meals free.”

“Oh,” said Hansel thoughtfully.

“It isn’t supposed to be known, of course, but I guess it is. I guess folks don’t make the mistake of thinking Billy is here to improve his[30] mind. He’s a good chap, but his mind will never trouble him—that way! And of course the only reason they let him stay at Bursley so long was just because he was one of the best players on any school team and they needed his assistance. Well, as I was saying, the story goes that some one said to Billy one day—and, by the way, he’s been in the second class ever since he came here, and that’s a year this fall—some one said to him: ‘Say, Billy, how are you getting on with your studies?’ ‘Oh,’ said Billy, ‘pretty fair.’ ‘That’s good. Find it easy going, do you?’ ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ says Billy. ‘The field’s pretty rough in places.’”

“Hm,” said Hansel. He didn’t even smile, and Bert regarded him disgustedly. Bert thought that a pretty funny yarn.

“Look here,” demanded the other after a moment of silence, “do you mean to tell me that that fellow is here just to play football and that the school is paying his expenses?”

“That’s about it,” answered Bert in surprise. “Why?”

“I don’t like it,” said Hansel decisively.

“Don’t like it? Well—well, what can you[31] do? Why don’t you like it?” Bert was genuinely astonished.

“I don’t like to think that that sort of thing is done at the school I go to,” answered the other firmly. “When I found I was coming here to Beechcroft I was proud of it. I had heard of the school all my life and had always wanted to come here, but never expected to be able to. Beechcroft has stood for me for everything that’s fine and high and—and noble in school life, and now you tell me that it’s no better than any of the little mean sneaky schools out West that give free tuition and board to any chap who can kick a football or run around the bases! That’s why I don’t like it, Bert.”

“Well, don’t you let the fellows hear you calling Beechcroft mean and sneaky,” said Bert indignantly. “If you do you’ll get laid out.”

“Isn’t it?” asked Hansel quietly.

“No, it isn’t!” exploded Bert. “You needn’t judge Beechcroft by your little two-by-twice schools out West. What if Cameron does get helped along by the fellows? If we’re willing to do it it’s our affair. He’s a bona fide[32] student at the academy, and no one can say he isn’t.”

“But I say it,” Hansel replied calmly.

Bert glared at him across the table as though on the point of inflicting blows. But Hansel’s steady untroubled gaze deterred him, and he contented himself with flinging himself out of his chair and seeking the support of the mantel.

“Then you lie!” he retorted hotly.

“I don’t think I do,” was the answer. “You’re not looking at the thing fairly and squarely, Bert. Here’s a fellow who hasn’t come here to prepare himself for college, who isn’t paying his own tuition, and who wouldn’t be here a day if he wasn’t a swell football player. And you call him a ‘bona fide student’!”

“Of course I do! He’s taking a regular course at the school and keeping up with his studies——”

“How?”

“What?”

“I asked how?”

“Same as you and I, I suppose.”

“But you’ve said yourself that he couldn’t stay at Bursley, and anyone knows that Beechcroft[33] is three times as hard as Bursley. Who’s coaching him?”

“What’s that got to do with it? Aren’t lots of the fellows coached?”

“Maybe; but who is coaching Cameron?”

“I don’t know; it’s none of my business. And it’s none of yours either, Hansel.”

“Yes, it is. Cameron has no business here; at least, he has no business playing on the school football team, and you know it.”

“Oh, don’t be a silly ass!” said Bert angrily. “You’re too blamed particular. Why, great Scott! lots of the schools have fellows on their football and baseball teams that aren’t any better than Cameron. Look at Bursley!”

“Maybe lots of them do, but that isn’t any reason that we should. Besides, I don’t believe many of them are like that. Bursley may be, but how about Fairview?”

“She’d take Cameron in a minute if she could get him!”

“I don’t believe it, Bert.”

“You don’t have to. Maybe you know a lot more about it than I do!”

“Well, anyway, I think it’s a pretty poor[34] piece of business. It isn’t as though we couldn’t get a winning team out of a hundred and fifty fellows, either; that makes it worse; we’re dishonest when there isn’t the least excuse for it. You needn’t tell me we couldn’t win from Fairview one year out of two without this Cameron fellow. Are there any more like him here?”

“You find out! I’ve told you all I’m going to. You make me tired, putting on airs as though Beechcroft wasn’t as good as any old school out where you come from.”

“She’s better than some of them,” answered Hansel calmly, “but I don’t know of a school out my way with half the reputation that Beechcroft has that would do such a thing.”

“Rot!”

“It’s so, just the same.”

“Well, let me tell you one thing; if you go around talking the way you have to-night you’ll get yourself mighty well disliked—and serve you right! You needn’t think we’re going to take a lot of nonsense like that from a fellow who comes from a little old village academy that no one ever heard of!”

[35]

“What does Ames think of it?” asked Hansel irrelevantly.

“You’d better ask him.”

“I will. And I’ll tell you what else I’m going to do,” continued Hansel, with a look in his steady brown eyes that Bert found disquieting. “I’m going to do away with that sort of thing at Beechcroft, if not this year, then next. Will you help me?”

“Me?” gasped Bert, thoroughly taken aback. “No, I won’t!”

“Well, I didn’t suppose you would, although as captain of the team you ought to be the first one to do so. I’ll just have to go ahead without you.”

Hansel drew his book toward him and seemed to consider the subject closed. Bert regarded him a moment in silence. Somehow he felt worsted, impotent, and in the wrong. And the feeling didn’t improve his temper.

“A fat lot you can do,” he growled wrathfully.

“You wait and see,” was the placid response.